


Sleeping with ghosts

by In_Arcadia_IO



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: LOTR RPF - Freeform, LoTR RPS - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Arcadia_IO/pseuds/In_Arcadia_IO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Orlando is like a sea creature under him ...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping with ghosts

Orlando is like a sea creature under him, oceanic, beads of water glisten on his sun-tanned arms and chest. He writhes in Viggo’s embrace like some rare marine being that doesn’t want to get caught. "Now … he breathes, hardly audible, "now."

Once more, Viggo thrusts deep and then … stops, enclosed in Orlando, surrounded by tight heat smoldering under wet skin and gooseflesh.

"Not yet," murmurs Viggo, hand flat on Orlando’s throat, feeling the blood that pulses there like a stream of subterranean lava flowing fast. He leans over to kiss Orlando and tastes sea water on Orlando’s lips. There are sand grains on Orlando’s shoulders and arms, damp and rough under Viggo’s hands.

"I’ll catch you," Viggo gasps in Orlando’s mouth.

Orlando smiles as if he’s drugged. "No, you can’t." He takes Viggo’s hand and guides it down on him, strokes only once, slowly, from top to base.

And that’s all it takes. Viggo sees the blackness grow hazy before Orlando’s eyes fall closed. Orlando’s mouth opens for a silent cry.

Watching him is almost enough to make Viggo come as well. He doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t. But then Orlando spills over Viggo’s hand and shivers and tightens around him and all of a sudden Viggo doesn’t care any more. He starts pounding into Orlando again, harder and faster than before.

The sand must be scraping against Orlando’s bare back. The beach towels have crumpled underneath them, but Viggo doesn’t care. And he doesn’t care if someone sees or hears them. Viggo doesn’t even hear his own ragged breathing.

As there is only this. Nothing else. The shrill cry of a seagull. The sounds of waves and surf. The salty, tangy smell of the sea. And Orlando’s smile, a smile, he can feel as they kiss, a smile that comes from the dark side of the moon. Orlando’s eyes are closed. And so are Viggo’s now, but he can still see himself enveloped in smiles and wetness and heat. He loses himself in Orlando.

When Viggo awakes a few seconds later, a few minutes later, Orlando’s legs are still wrapped around him. Viggo feels a hand on his hair. They’re both sticky and sand-covered and realize that they’re beginning to feel chilly. At this early hour, the sun’s not yet warm enough and the breeze there at beach is rather fresh.

"Let’s go for a swim," Orlando says, trying to untangle himself from under Viggo. Viggo looks up, trying to see whether there’s something left of the hazy blackness in Orlando’s eyes, but it’s too late. Orlando is fast. He is already up on his legs, running down the beach and into the water. "Come on. It’s not cold."

Viggo shakes off his drowsiness and follows suit. Yes, the water’s perfect, and touching Orlando, that sea creature, under water is even more perfect. Long limbs, water-smooth, tangled around Viggo. Light reflected on arms and legs in the shallow waters. And Orlando laughing and splashing water at him.

"Catch me," Orlando teases and submerges, head-on into the sun-lit blue. And again Viggo follows, but Orlando’s a good swimmer, he dives down fast. After a while, Orlando turns around and smiles at Viggo, the mysterious smile of a merman, opening and closing his mouth around words that Viggo can’t hear. Viggo can’t reach out and touch Orlando any more either as Orlando keeps getting farther and farther away by now, sinking ever deeper into the waters, to a place where there is no more light, only bottomless darkness. Viggo struggles, but he can’t follow. His lungs are almost bursting, the water presses down on him heavily.

Suddenly, Orlando’s gone. Viggo can’t see him any more. Orlando has disappeared. Swallowed by the deep dark blue.

With a start Viggo wakes up, terrified, his breathing is fast and irregular. At first, he doesn’t know where he is. But then he senses someone bending over him in the darkness.

"Calm down," a voice says. Someone sits down on Viggo’s bed.

"Sorry, Karl," Viggo replies. Running a hand through his hair, he realizes that his face is wet and his whole body is aching. "Did I wake you up?"

"Ah, well. Seems you talk a lot in your sleep …" Karl answers calmly.

"I’m sorry, really. Must be the jet lag. And all these press conferences."

"Hmm, guess that's so. Actually, it’s my fault, forgot to close the door to your room. You’re sure you’re OK?"

"Yeah, I’m … fine."

"Right. So I’ll try to get some more sleep now." Karl gets up again to leave the room, a sleepy shadow in the dark, tousled hair, crumpled pyjamas. Hand hovering over the door knob, Karl turns once more.

"Don’t think I ever saw you so worn out. Not even during shooting Helm’s Deep."

"Mmmmm." The more awake Viggo gets, the less he feels like talking. Inverse proportional eloquence. Hmmmm. Sitting up on the bed, Viggo yanks the sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head. "D’you know whether there’s some water left in the fridge?"

"Here, there’s a full bottle." Reaching over to a small table, Karl hands him a bottle- For a split second he brushes Viggo’s bare arm.

"Thanks," Viggo replies, stunned - What? Karl almost flinched when they both touched? - and adds, chuckling, "Hey, it’s only me. No war-mongering beasts."

"Yeah, sure," laughs Karl, and Viggo wonders if this laugh sounds a bit strained, perhaps even nervous.

Putting the water bottle on the floor, Viggo gets up and walks over to Karl. "What’s going on? You haven’t been very relaxed lately, either. Was the bed-in really such a horrible hippie idea? Are you worried that it’ll give people ideas?"

"Ideas?" Karl snorts, raising an eyebrow. "No, let the media make of it whatever they want. It’s what they do anyway. That was for a good cause. And it’s everyone’s fault if they don’t see the irony in this … "

"But you don’t see the irony yourself?"

Karl takes a deep breath. "Vig, I believe you can’t see it. You have no idea what’s going on, do you?"

A strange thing, having this discussion in near darkness, Viggo thinks. But he doesn’t want to switch on the lights. Somehow it would spoil the moment. Now that he finally got Karl talking. So Viggo only draws the curtains. The Tokyo night is not that dark, streetlights flash up from below and large neon billboards gleam away under the clouds. In the distance the horn of a police car howls. The room’s no longer as gloomy as before, but Karl’s face still lies in darkness.

"So tell me what’s going on," Viggo starts again. "There is no reason why you shouldn’t. You know he lives his own life now, same as I do."

"Do you?" asks Karl, voice low. "Then you’d better stop sleeping with ghosts." He pauses for a moment, hesitating, then slowly runs a hand over Viggo’s bare chest, touch light as a moth fluttering at night. "Better sleep with me."

Viggo leans against the window sill, studying Karl closely. "Perhaps you’re a ghost, too?"

"I’m not," answers Karl, while his hands - firm, strong hands as Viggo notices - wander down Viggo’s back, bringing them closer together. "I’m real."

Yes, real, Viggo thinks, as he feels Karl’s stubble against his face, and Karl’s lips on his. Real kisses, a real body. What’s wrong with that? And before he fully realizes what’s happening, they’re rolling on the bed, wrestling with each other, for control or just to feel skin rub against skin. Karl’s taller than Orlando, heavier, and it seems he enjoys holding Viggo down as they kiss. And Viggo wants to go with it, go with the flow, as they say. Just feel, just kiss. Nothing else. No more memories. No more bad dreams.

And he almost succeeds.

But in the end, when Karl is driving into him, so hard that Viggo hits the head of the bed once or twice – but never hard enough to make Viggo forget – Viggo finds himself in the deep blue waters again. And there, too, is Orlando, that strange sea creature, smiling that haunting smile. And it’s as if Viggo can hear Orlando’s voice in his head now, whispering maliciously, "Don’t call out my name again. He won’t like it."

Viggo freezes. It’s in that moment that Karl comes. And Viggo opens his eyes and finds Karl’s eyes open, too. Karl’s face is flushed, his glance is clouded, but he still sees. Rolling off Viggo he shakes his head. "Damn, I should have known."

It's not like that, Viggo wants to reply, but he can't because it would be a lie. So he just lies there, without saying a word, staring, and watches Karl leave the room.

Outside, a pale sky is dawning, rosé mixed with watery aquamarine blue.


End file.
